Fearful Symmetry
by angela evans
Summary: (26/?) Zack's past interferes with Logan's present, and Max has to prove Logan's innocence or they won't have a future together, if they even have one at all ~ Part Three of The Alternate Future . . . Sequel to Possession
1. The Plot Thickens

"Fearful Symmetry"  
Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters except for Karen, Brandon, Maeve, and any   
others I may make up.  
  
  
NOTE: This is the sequel to "Possession"; do not read this if you have not read "What Might Have Been" and "Possession" first. This is also the third part in the (so far) four part Alternate Future. It takes place in 2021, right at the end of Possession.  
  
And speical thanks to Rose, Ratty, and my Dark Angel Fans MB pals, and to Meka for her betaing expertise :)  
  
In what distant deeps or skies   
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?   
On what wings dare he aspire?   
What the hand dare seize the fire?  
  
When the stars threw down their spears,   
And water'd heaven with their tears,   
Did He smile His work to see?   
Did He who made the lamb make thee   
  
Tiger, tiger, burning bright   
In the forests of the night,   
What immortal hand or eye   
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? - The Tiger  
  
Little Lamb, who made thee? - The Lamb  
By William Blake  
  
  
~Part One~  
The Plot Thickens  
  
  
Max easily dismounted from the Space Needle and went to retrieve her bike from where she'd hidden it. The night air was cool, and it played lazily with her hair as she strode over to her baby. "Oh, Baby, are you okay?" she crooned. "Mommy had to do some thinking, but she hates to leave you alone." Taking the bike's silence as a reply, she climbed on and started the engine. "That's my girl," she purred, putting on her sunglasses and zooming off in the direction of home.  
  
Home. Only two years ago, that had been an apartment with Kendra. Then New York. And now, Logan's. Logan's was the only place she'd ever really felt home. Maybe that was because of the man clad in boxer shorts waiting for her in that warm bed. Max smiled to herself, and pushed the throttle a little harder to make her get home that much sooner.  
  
Sitting in a chair in his office, the man in boxer shorts was reading a letter. Max's cat, Sibelius, was perched on his chest, head tucked under his chin. 'Dear Logan, Know that I don't blame you. You loved her, that was obvious from the beginning . . .' He kept reading it over and over again. "It's suicide," Matt Sung's voice echoed in his head, "suicide."  
Logan did blame himself, however. 'I should have known that she was desperate. That hysterical display of her's should have been a clue. God, how could I have missed it when I went through the same thing myself?'   
  
Logan thought back to that day that he'd almost attempted suicide. Dr. Adriana Vertes, who he thought was his only hope of ever walking again, had been murdered in cold blood by Lydecker. It didn't matter that she'd been setting a trap for Max. Nothing mattered except walking again. If he couldn't walk, there could never be a future for him and Max. He was convinced of that. The fact that it had been Donald Lydecker who'd taken it from him was another twist of the knife in his heart. That man - no, that monster - had taken everything from Max. Everything except her life.  
  
Max noticed the light on in Logan's computer room. It was a little late for him, but she figured that he'd woken up and, not finding her there, hadn't gone back to sleep. Lost in his work, he wouldn't have heard her come in.  
  
Actually, Logan was too lost in thought and guilt to hear the door open. Sibelius heard it, and knowing it was Max, jumped up and ran for her favorite person. Well, one of her favorite people. Max picked up the tiny kitten who'd come to greet her at the door. "What's wrong sweetie?" Max crooned at the mewing kitten. Sibelius struggled out of her arms and ran back to Logan. Max followed.  
Logan's head was on his desk, and he was sitting slumped in his chair. There was a piece of paper under his hand.  
  
Max's heart rose to her throat. He couldn't have. He wouldn't have. She'd kill him if he had. She reached out a tentative hand. Never in her life had Max been this scared, not since the last time . . . .  
  
At the touch of her hand on his shoulder, Logan's head came up. He turned and looked at Max, eyes full of pain and guilt.  
  
"Karen Parker's dead."  
  
Max stared at Logan. "She's dead?" Max felt so many emotions at the mention of that woman's name, but they all faded into a dull shock as soon as she heard Logan's words.  
  
"Suicide," Logan said, his voice strained. Max saw the guilt and remorse in his eyes. She put a hand on his, which he was tightening into a fist.   
  
"Not your fault," she whispered, "not at all. She made that choice for herself."  
  
"Wish I could believe that, Max. I really wish I did. But I used her. I used her, stupidly trying to get over you, and the minute you came back, I dumped her. She'd been left by all the men in her life. He dad left when she was eleven, Brandon's father was a one night stand, her husband died, and then I treat her like was a . . ." his voice failed him.  
  
"Logan, you can't blame yourself for the actions of others. Just because they left her doesn't mean that you're responsible for it." Max resisted the impulse to add why she thought they'd left Karen. There was no point in name calling when the woman was dead.  
  
Logan took Max's hand in his and pulled her to him. She settled herself gently in his lap as he wrapped his arms around her. "Max, before I met you, before the, uh . . ." He could walk again, but he still didn't like talking about the shooting. He cleared his throat, "I was, well, what you'd call a 'playa'. I was a spoiled rich kid who could have anything, or anyone he wanted. And then, when I couldn't have what I really wanted," he paused and looked at Max, "I reverted back to that bad habit. I used Karen."  
  
"Logan," Max said softly, "I saw the look on your face that night, you really had thought you were in love with her until she tried to make you choose. You didn't use her."  
  
Logan tightened his arms around Max. "Thank you," he whispered. Max laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "No big dealio," she said, running a hand through his hair. Her hand paused, resting on his head and she looked at him. "You need sleep."  
  
Logan was about to protest, but she firmed up the corners of her mouth, making that little 'no arguing with me, mister' frown. He knew he'd lost. "You're right. This will make more sense in the morning." He eased out of the chair, pulling himself up to his full height. Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead.  
  
Max took his hand and led him back to the bedroom. Tucking him in like he was a small child, she gently took his glasses off his face and laid them on the bedside table. She climbed in beside him and wrapped her arms around him.  
  
Logan fell asleep quickly, despite the heavy feeling of Karen's death. Max lay awake a long time, however. It wasn't the fact that she had insomniatic sleep patterns ingrained in her DNA, there was something on her mind keeping her awake.  
  
There was something in the back of her mind, something she wasn't putting together. It had to do with something Logan had said . . . and something else, but she couldn't quite place it. Max replayed their conversation in her head on mental fast-forward. What was it? Something about Karen, that was for sure.  
  
  



	2. Pretty Pictures

~Part Two~  
Pretty Pictures  
  
Max wheeled her bike down the ramp at Jam Pony, inhaling the sent of bike tires and stale coffee. It was good to be back. Complain as she did, Max actually missed the place. The work wasn't that bad when Normal was having a good day, and all of her friends were there. She'd missed them during the past week.  
  
Now what was she going to say to get her job back this time?  
  
Normal saved her the trouble. "Hot run, 725A Bleeker," he said, thrusting a package into her hands. "Welcome back, Max, now be off with you."  
  
Max shrugged, but didn't question it. It must be one of his good days. Before Normal could say "Bip bip bip" she had the package tucked safely in her bag and had turned the bike around, walking it up the ramp one-handed.  
  
When she returned and showed Normal the signature, he waved her off, saying, "Fine, fine, you'll get your check next week like the rest of your compatriots."  
  
Max shrugged and walked over to the couch. She plopped herself down on the couch next to Cindy. "What up, Boo?" Cindy asked, "Everything good with Mr. Moneybags? Original Cindy was worried when you just disappeared without a word."  
  
"Things are good," Max said, pushing the Karen issue to the back of her head.  
  
"What's with the new Normal? He meet "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" or somethin?"  
  
"No, we all got this thing goin' where he don't call us morons and idiots, telling us we got IQ's smaller than our shoe sizes, and we show a little R-e-s-p-e-c-t."  
  
"Thank you, Aretha."  
  
Cindy rolled her eyes, "Say what you will, Miss Cynical, but it works. Original Cindy don't even mind the bip-bip-bipping."  
  
"Sure you don't," Max laughed, digging into her bag, "I got pictures from Jace this morning."  
  
"Ooh! Lemme see that cute little nephew of my boo," Cindy squealed.  
  
Max dug lower and lower into her bag, tossing all sorts of items on to the coffee table: gum, lip gloss, keys, pager, pens, an old pre-Pulse walkman Logan had given her, a hair brush, lock picks . . .   
  
"Damn, they're not in here," she said, "I could have sworn I put them in here this morning." She grabbed handfuls of stuff and shoved them back in her bag, disappointed.  
  
"Guys, I got an advance copy!" Sketchy cried, running down the ramp and climbing over the back of the sofa to wedge himself between Cindy and Max. He was brandishing a magazine. Max caught the title, Better Bikes and Messengers.   
  
"You got the article?" Herbal asked in his thick Jamaican accent. He joined them at the couch. Sketchy started to flip through the magazine, but Cindy grabbed it from his hands. "Let Cindy find it." She quickly flipped past ads and other things, then triumphantly held up a picture of her and "Lickety Chick" talking between runs. "Damn, she look fine. Original Cindy's gonna need this in life-size to hang on her wall."   
  
Max soon found herself pressed into the far end of the couch as the other riders, attracted by Cindy, Sketchy, and Herbal's fight over the magazine, crowded around to get a peek. She couldn't help but feel left out, like she'd missed out on something. But she caught sight of Cindy and Herbal standing next to her locker with it's nameplate reading Max in one picture and smiled, knowing she'd been remembered in her absence.   
  
Meanwhile, back at the penthouse, Logan took a break from the hack he was putting together to get some orange juice. While he drank, he sifted through the mail that Max had left on the counter before she headed to work. Nothing interesting really. At the bottom of the pile he found a large white envelope with a return address in Germany. It was from Jace, re-routed through some people that were part of the Informant Net so it couldn't be traced.  
  
Max must have already opened it, because when he picked it up, a small envelop fell onto the clean kitchen tile. He bent and picked it up. It was pictures of Little Max. The kid was like a nephew to Logan. After all, Jace was Max's sister, and any member of Max's family was his family. Except . . . nah, he wouldn't go there. He looked at all the pictures, reflecting over Maxito's big grin and innocent face of a kid who would never know the horror his mother had.  
  
There was something in those pictures that made Logan wonder, however, but he couldn't place his finger on it . . .   
  
  
  



	3. Hush Little Baby

~ Part Three ~  
Hush Little Baby  
  
The child's eyes were big and round. Maeve wanted to pick him up and walk right out the double doors with him, take him to his family . . . what was left of it anyway. But she knew she'd never make it out the front door alive. And somewhere deep in her heart, she knew that if she did, she wouldn't want to see *him* again.  
  
"Subject shows expected responses," Lydecker's voice brought her back to the present moment. "As well as an . . . unfortunate attachment to certain staff members," he continued speaking into the recorder, but he was looking straight at Maeve with a look that would curdle milk.  
  
Well, it wasn't her fault if the poor kid liked her. Lydecker wanted her on this project as punishment, punishment for not completing her assignment. So he'd put her here, working with the only X-5 Beta they had. And this one just happened to be related to the objective of that mission.  
  
The child actually wasn't an X-5. They really didn't have a category for him. So they called him X-5 Beta. Maeve thought he was more like X-5/2 considering he only had half of the genetic enhancements of one X-5.  
  
Lydecker continued to pace around the examining table. Maeve stood still, not taking her eyes off the child. The poor kid was terrified. Finally, as if he'd become exasperated, Lydecker left the room, heading for his office to file a report with Her, Madame Director. The door slammed behind him.   
  
The child started to cry. Cooing softly, Maeve picked him up. "Hush little baby, don't say a word, momma's gonna buy you a mocking bird . . ." her voice lilting as she sang. His crying faded away into quiet awe as he looked up at Maeve. "Pwetty," he gurgled.  
  
Maeve laughed. "Your daddy liked my singing, too." The smile faded from her face as she thought about how she'd left things with him . . . and just what resulted from it.  
  
Maeve stared down into the child's innocently blinking, sleepy face. "This isn't you're fault little one. It's mine. And I'm gonna fix it."  
  
She knew she'd get in extreme trouble for what she was about to do. But she didn't care. Slipping the DNA test sheets into a manila envelope, Maeve sealed it and took a black marker. On the front she hurriedly scrawled Logan Cale and an address and slipped it under her lab coat.  
  
Maeve gently placed B back in his crib. She'd nicknamed him B since she didn't like calling him Beta the way Lydecker and Madame Director did. B curled his small body into a ball, trying to become as small as possible in hopes he could become invisible. Maeve didn't blame him. There was tension in the air between Madame Director and Col. Lydecker. And she and B were right in the middle of it.  
  
Pete was in charge of the mail. Nothing went in or out without his knowledge. So it was a good thing that Maeve had an arrangement with him. He'd deliver the odd, random things she asked without telling anyone and she'd supply him with Cordodiazapine for his son, who was suffering from Balkan War Syndrome. You couldn't get that stuff on the black market and be sure of its quality. It was a quid-pro-quo arrangement.  
  
"Pete, I need you to get this package out for me," she said, pulling it out of her lab coat. "Fast. But if anyone asks . . ."  
  
"I never saw it, or you," Pete said with a smile. He took the envelope from Maeve. "I can have this out by tonight."  
  
"Thanks, you're the greatest. And here, this is for Marcus." She pulled a white bottle of pills from her pocket with a rattling noise. "Should last him a month."   
  
Pete took the bottle of Cordodiazapine from Maeve. "Thanks. This will go out ASAP."  
  
"Thanks." Maeve smiled briefly and left to go check on B again.  
  
"I'll get you out of here even if it kills me," she whispered, pressing a hand to the glass wall of his crib that separated them.  
  
A/N: Reviews, PLEASE! 


	4. The Usual Suspects

~Part Four~  
The Usual Suspects  
  
Logan was staring at his computer. He was supposed to be doing an Eyes Only report, but he couldn't focus. Couldn't concentrate. Well, he could, but not on Eyes Only.  
  
It had been a week since Matt had told him that Karen was dead. He'd tried to keep busy with Eyes Only to get his mind off of it, but it was not working. He couldn't escape the feelings of guilt that crept up behind him when he was alone. When Max was around she could distract his thoughts long enough, but eventually, they came back. As much as he'd love to talk to her about it, he knew she was still grappling with her own stuff, especially Tinga.  
  
Logan indulged in some self-depreciating thoughts about Karen and Max and Tinga. Somehow or another they had all gotten dragged into this mess of a life of his and only one of them was still breathing.  
  
A knock at his office door brought his thoughts back to the immediate present. Logan looked over his shoulder and saw Bling standing in the doorway.  
  
"You okay?" Bling asked.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine," Logan replied, sounding a trifle annoyed. Why did people keep asking that?  
  
"Okay," Bling replied, ignoring the edge to Logan's voice. When would the guy just let his feelings out? It wasn't good for him to keep them bottled up. "I'm going to the market. You want anything?"  
  
"No, thank you," Logan said turning back to his computer.  
  
"It's a great day out. Why don't you call Max and go out for a walk? Maybe a picnic?"  
  
"No, I think I'm going to stay in. This hack needs some work."  
  
'He's almost as emotionally constipated as Zack. Well, it was worth a shot,' Bling thought. "Ok. I'll be back in an hour. Mail's on the counter." Bling shook his head and then let himself out.  
  
Logan tried to get focused on the hack again, but it wasn't working. Maybe he should call Max. His hand reached out for the phone and hovered over it while he tried to make up his mind. He shook his head and started to pull his hand back, when the phone rang.  
  
Logan answered the phone. It was Matt Sung. "Logan. Turns out Karen Parker was murdered. I had a hunch and I followed it up. There's no powder burn on her hand. She didn't fire the gun."  
  
Logan stared at the phone in shock as if seeing Matt's words would make them more real. Karen hadn't committed suicide? That didn't mean that he was any less responsible for her death, but . . .   
  
"Murdered," Logan repeated. "Any clue as to who might have done it?"  
  
"That's partly why I called you. Did Karen have any enemies? Anyone who would want to kill her?"  
  
"Uh, when I first met Karen she was an informant. Her husband had been killed by the man he was working for, Edgar Montoya. Karen helped me put together a report for Eyes Only."  
  
"Montoya's in prison, but he could have gotten outside help. I'll look into it. But Logan, you should know . . ." Matt's voice lowered, "some of the guys on this case are starting to see you as a suspect."  
  
"Matt . . ."  
  
"Logan, I know you didn't. And I'm doing my best to keep you out of their path. But do me a favor, and don't leave town."  
  
"Wasn't planning on it."  
  
"Yeah. Hey, listen, you wouldn't happen to know if Karen had any family, would you? Like a sister or a cousin . . . we can't find any record of any."  
  
"No family . . . except her son."  
  
"Son?"  
  
"Yeah, Brandon . . ." Logan's voice trailed off. How could he have forgotten about Brandon?  
  
Max heard Logan's voice on the phone as she walked in. Noticing the mail on the counter, she went over and sorted through it. There were magazines, fliers, letters, bills . . . nothing interesting.   
  
A large manila envelope slipped out of the pile and fell to the floor. Max bent down and grasped it by one end. The sticky gum holding it shut unglued and the contents of the package fell to the floor. Max scrambled to pick up the sheets of paper.  
  
She noticed two sheets of transparency type film with black markings all over them. DNA tests. Max looked at the envelope. No return address, Logan's name scrawled in strange handwriting. What was Logan doing with DNA tests?  
  
Max stared at the sheets. Vivadyne Labs. Vivadyne Labs. The same labs where she had been created. The cover name for Manticore.  
  
Logan was getting test results from Manticore? What else had he gotten?  
  
Max pushed the thoughts out of her head. There had to be an innocent explanation for this. She scanned the test sheets. The first had no signs of any names or numbers she recognized, just X-5 Beta. Beta?  
  
The second sheet was almost identical to the first as far as the DNA patterns. But the second one had a barcode number on it. A barcode she recognized.   
  
330417291559  
  
"Zack," Max gasped.  
  



	5. Revelations

~Part Five~  
Revelations  
  
Logan heard Max cry her brother's name. He hung up on Matt and went out to the kitchen, expecting to see the sullen faced Zack. Instead, Max was clutching two transparencies and staring at them with horror.  
  
"Max?" She looked up at him, her brown eyes full of questions. "Max, what is that?"  
  
"This was addressed to you," she said, holding up the manila envelope. "These are autorads. Short for autoradiograph. Basically, it means DNA test results. Look at them." She handed both to Logan.  
  
Carefully studying the autorads, Logan noticed how similar they were. He wasn't a lab tech, but even he knew what that meant. These two people were related.  
  
He looked up from the autorads. "So, we've got the DNA maps for two relatives, what's the big deal?"  
  
"The big deal is who they are."  
  
Logan looked at the markings on one autorad. A barcode he knew almost as well as Max's and hated almost as much as he loved her.  
  
It wasn't fair to say he hated the guy. Perhaps strong intense dislike was better. There was a part of Zack that didn't tick off Logan. A very small part. The part that was fighting evil.  
  
Of course, most of the time, the other parts of Zack outweighed that part. Especially in Logan's memory, since the last time he'd seen Zack, Zack had been trying to lip lock with Max, taking advantage of her grief over Logan's own 'death', a lie Zack had told her for 'her own good'.  
  
"Zack," Logan said without enthusiasm.  
  
"And a nameless X-5 Beta," Max replied, her voice even. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Why would it be X-5 Beta?"  
  
Realization dawned on Logan's face. "Zack has a child."  
  
"Not just a child," Max said, leaning close to him, so close her hair brushed his arm, "A son. That there is the Y chromosome," she said pointing to a blob.  
  
"Let me guess, you excelled at genetics as a child."  
  
"No, actually that was Jondie. Maybe we should contact her and Mike . . ."  
  
"Before I place a call to Dublin, let's answer a few questions, shall we? Any thing in here that can tell you about the mother? Any idea where these came from?"  
  
"Actually, yes. Look at the post mark." Max handed him the envelope. "Who do you know at Manticore?"  
  
"I think the question is who knows me. I haven't become pen pals with Lydecker."   
  
Max's eyes shifted to the left of him and a shadow passed across her face. She turned her eyes back to his face. "As for your other question, I have no idea."  
  
"Ok. I'll get copies of these and send them to Jondie. You want to send her anything with them?"  
  
"Yeah, I wanted to send her some pictures of Little Max," she began looking through the stack of mail. "Where are those pictures Jace just sent?"  
  
"Oh, I put them over here," Logan walked over to the coffee table and picked up the packet.  
  
Max took the pictures from him and began sorting through them. "This one's cute. And you can just barely see his barcode."  
  
"Maxito has a barcode?!"  
  
"Well, not really. It's more of a dark spot that resembles smudged ink. Look," she held out the photo to him, pointing at the back of the child's neck. "The Mark of Cain."  
  
Logan had seen that birthmark before, but where he could not remember.  
  
Logan took the picture from Max and put it with the autorads. "I'll get this out to Jondie tomorrow morning."  
  
"Ok." She seemed distracted.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Who were you talking to on the phone? I thought I heard you talking about Karen."  
  
"Uh, it was nothing," Logan replied, avoiding her eye. "Just Matt, keeping me updated on Karen's, uh, situation." And before Max could reply, Logan had disappeared back into his office.  
  
A/N: I know nothing about genetics. If I messed up, please don't blast me for it, just tell me. Thanks, Ange :)  



	6. Alone

~Part Six~  
Alone  
  
Feeling a little upset, Max watched Logan disappear into his office. Turning on her heel, she walked out the door and went back to work.   
  
In his office, Logan heard the door click shut and sighed, running his hands over his face. He knew that she'd seen through his excuse. He felt like an idiot for lying to her. He waited for a little while and then grabbed his coat and headed out the door, leaving Max a quick note.  
  
The phone rang the minute he left. It rang three times before the machine picked up. "Hi, you've reached the number you dialed . . ."  
  
* * * *  
  
Max slipped in the door. The penthouse was pretty quiet. "Logan?" There was no response. Max walked into the kitchen and found a note clipped to the fridge.   
  
Max -   
Out doing some errands. Back soon. Sorry if I was abrupt earlier. I'll make it up to you. Love you,   
- L  
  
Max smiled faintly to herself and clipped the note back on the fridge. A faint meowing caught her attention. "Sibelius, where are you, baby?" she called, "Here, kitty kitty . . ."  
  
Max followed the meowing to Logan's office, where Sibelius was sitting in the midst of a bunch of papers on Logan's desk, looking quite pleased with herself in a cat sort of way.  
  
"Bad girl," Max scolded, "you know you're not allowed up there." She moved to pick up Sibelius, who moved out of her reach and scampered across the desk. Max grabbed her just as the cat started walking on Logan's answering machine. As she picked her up, one of the kitten's paws pressed the messages button.  
  
"Logan, this is Matt. Call me as soon as you get in, it's pretty serious. Forensics found a partial print on the gun that was used in the shooting. They checked for registration. You're the prime suspect. Call me."  
  
The machine beeped coldly and mechanically as Max stared at it in horror, clutching Sibelius to her body. Why hadn't Logan told her? Why?  
  
Max knew she needed to clear her head. Leaving Sibelius in Logan's office, she grabbed her keys and her jacket, then headed out for a ride on her baby. As she breezed out the door, Logan's note fell from the fridge to the floor.  
  
* * * *  
  
Max sat high atop the Space Needle, above the now abandoned viewing deck. The humid air blew around her and the sky was gray. It was going to rain any minute, or storm, which perfectly suited Max's black mood.  
  
Why didn't Logan tell me that the police suspected him? Did he honestly believe I wouldn't think he was innocent? Maybe it's testosterone related - he doesn't want to worry me. I can understand the not wanting me to worry part; I guess I just never figure him for one of those testosteroney-I'm-king-of-the-world-I-can-handle-it-all types.  
  
But it explains the weirdness. He's been acting pretty odd since he found out about Karen. Guess I would too, if I found out my ex had committed suicide, which turned out to be murder and I was the prime suspect. Wait, no - that would mean I actually cared about Darrin.  
  
But I know Logan cared about Karen, in some sort of way. He's just that kind of guy. I know he wanted to help her and Brandon, especially Brandon, even after she left, but she refused. Maybe if she hadn't she'd be alive. Not like I really cared about her, but I guess Logan's rubbed off a little on me, and I hate to see a kid without a mother.  
  
Poor Brandon, he's probably in some sort of foster home or orphanage right now. I've had my share of those and they aren't fun. Not that Manticore or the streets was a five-star hotel or anything, but those places are rough, even for a two year old.   
  
I hope he's okay . . .   
  
Max sighed and stared up at the cloud-laden sky. Why were things always so difficult? Like Tinga's situation. Like Jace's. Like . . .   
  
Max had to find Logan right away. If she was right, they were all in big trouble.  
  
* * * *  
  
Logan dumped the bags on the counter. He'd bought all the right ingredients for pasta tricolore and chocolate mousse for dessert.  
  
"Max, you around? I'm making your favorite for dinner, then I thought we could . . . Max? You here?" Logan listened to the stillness of the penthouse. Max wasn't there. He saw the note he'd written her, lying on the floor. She'd been home, but had left. Why?  
  
He heard a noise come from his office. He walked to the door and opened it. It creaked open with a screeing noise . . . I need to get that fixed, he thought to himself.   
  
He found Sibelius batting at his mouse, which was now dangling over the edge of his desk. "Silly cat," he said, picking the kitten up. But Sibelius wriggled out of his grasp and pounced on the desk, intent on catching the mouse. Her back paw hit the answering machine.  
  
It clicked and whirred to life. Logan saw the red light turn on and start flashing as the machine rewound the tape. The message played.  
  
"Logan, this is Matt. Call me as soon as you get in, it's pretty serious. Forensics found a partial print on the gun that was used in the shooting. They checked for registration. You're the prime suspect. Call me."  
  
He knew Max had heard it. And she'd left, pissed he hadn't told her. He had to find her. Logan started for the door just as the rain came with a sharp crack of lightning.  
  
  
A/N: Sorry this took so long. I had to move out of the dorm and get my computer set up. The rest should come quickly :)  
Ange @-'-,----  
  
  



	7. Confessions

~Part Seven~   
Confessions   
Logan entered his penthouse shaking the rain from his hair. Hanging his jacket on a hook, he went to the bathroom and grabbed a towel. Vigorously rubbing it over his wet head, he walked to his bedroom to change his shirt. Putting his glasses down on the night table, he yanked his wet shirt over his head.   
He'd gone out to look for Max, but the pouring rain had driven him back inside after a short walk around the area. As if to reinforce the violence of the weather, lightening split the sky in a jagged flash of light, followed by an intense blast of thunder. The lights flickered as Logan looked up at them through the neck of the shirt he was pulling over his head. "Great," he muttered, "another blackout. At least this can be blamed on the weather."   
He went to the dinning room and got candles out of a drawer in the sidebar before the lights actually went out. Lighting them, he placed them around the kitchen and the living room. In the kitchen, he grabbed the teakettle and filled it with water. He placed it on a burner and turned on the stove, hoping that the water would boil before the lights went out.   
As the lights continued to flicker in time with the tempo of the storm, he grabbed a book off of the shelf and put it on the coffee table. Max would be back soon enough if she wasn't at Kendra's, and with the lights threatening to go out, he may as well let the hack he was working on sit for a while.   
The teakettle whistled. Logan grabbed a mug and poured the steaming water into the cup. He got a box of tea bags out of the cupboard and, while he was dipping one into the hot water, he grabbed the phone and dialed Kendra's number.   
"Hello," Kendra picked up the phone just as the lights went out all across the city.   
"Hey Kendra, it's Logan. You haven't seen Max, have you?" he asked, cradling the phone between his head and his shoulder.   
"No, I haven't seen her. Is something wrong?"   
"No, everything's fine. I'm sure she'll turn up soon. Besides cats hate the rain."   
"What?" Kendra was confused by Logan's last remark.   
A sudden breeze rolled through the air with a harsh crack of thunder. The candle near the end of the counter flickered and went out. Logan smiled. "Nevermind, Kendra," he said, hanging up and placing the phone back in its cradle. Taking his cup of tea with him, he wandered into the living room.   
Sure enough, the window was open and rain was blowing in. Logan put down his mug and shut the window. He turned around to face a dripping Max.   
"Sorry about the mess," she whispered.   
"It's okay." For a moment they stood, staring at each other. Max's wet clothes were clinging to her in just the right places to show off her curves. Logan cleared his throat and tried to get his head back to business. "We should get you out of those wet clothes."   
"Yeah," she whispered. They stared at each other again, Max noticing the way Logan's shirt hugged his muscular torso and arms. Then, turning on the tips of her toes, she disappeared into the bedroom to change.   
Logan smiled to himself as he wiped up the water that had rained in the window. They'd been living together for almost a month now, and in some ways it was still like the first night she'd dropped in and surprised him.   
Just as he was finishing wiping up the drips, Max sauntered into the room, wrapped in the red terry robe he'd let her borrow years ago. Ever since then it had been hers. "Hey," he said, "Feeling dry yet?" Great line, Logan. They stared at each other again.   
"Logan, I think I know who the X-5 Beta is," Max blurted at the same time Logan said, "I should have told you about Karen's murder."   
They both stopped and looked at each other. The corners of Logan's mouth turned up in a small smile. "Ladies first," he said to Max.   
A smile flitted across Max's face. She loved to hear Logan refer to her as a lady, even if she prided herself on not being one. But the smile quickly faded as she remembered the suspicions she'd come to tell him.   
"I think Brandon is the X-5 Beta," she said quietly. "I remember a strange birthmark on the back of his neck. I didn't know what it was then, but the pictures Jace sent of Maxito, and Case . . ."   
"You're right," Logan agreed, "I remember it, too. Karen was going to have it removed when he got older."   
"Which means if Brandon is at Manticore, then Lydecker killed Karen."   
Logan looked away. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I should have told you that they knew she was murdered. I wasn't exactly lying when I said that Matt had called to update me about the situation. But I should have told you."   
Max put a hand on his arm. "Logan, next time, just tell me, ok?"   
He looked back at her. A smile played across his lips. "Sure." He stood up and walked to the kitchen. "I've got all the ingredients needed for pasta tricolore. What do you say?"  
  



	8. Caught

~Part Eight~  
Caught  
  
Maeve watched as Col. Lydecker tested B's spatial reasoning and associative skills. For a two-year-old, he was exceptionally, if not extraordinarily adept. But for an X-5, he was right on target. Run-of-the-mill, actually. But considering most other X-5 Betas had IQs below 70, he was damn good stuff.  
  
Maeve was behind a two-way mirror, watching the session and waiting for them to summon her to take B back to his crib. I'm just a glorified nanny, she thought. Special Task Force Subject Attaché, my ass.  
  
The Director, Renfro, was also watching from behind the two-way mirror. Maeve knew that while she saw a child, Renfro saw a machine, a weapon, a pawn. And right now she positively had dollar signs in her eyes.  
  
"Quite a wonder, isn't he?" Renfro said, catching Maeve watching B with a more than moderate interest.  
  
"Yeah," Maeve whispered, forgetting where she was and just whom she was with.  
  
"Even with only half the amount of enhanced genes our X-5's have, he will fetch quite a price on the open market. Imagine what the Chinese, or the Russians, or even the Czechs would pay for just his autoradiograph alone, and it's a wonder that someone was so careless as to misplace them."  
  
A field operative for several years, Maeve could keep her face blank, but inside she winced. She was as good as caught. Even good old Pete in the mailroom had a weakness, a weakness that could be squeezed if just the right people - or the wrong people - discovered it. How long could she keep her efforts a secret?  
  
Finally, Col. Lydecker looked into the mirror and nodded. Usually that was Maeve's signal to collect B and take him to his crib, but today Madame Director entered the room just ahead of her and knelt down in front of B.  
  
"Hello," she smiled at the toddler, "Did Donald read you a nice story today?"  
  
B nodded shyly, while Lydecker bristled. As if to undermine her authority by giving the kid cavities, Lydecker handed B a lollypop before sending him off with Maeve.  
  
"That kid really is amazing," Lydecker said. "To think, that he is the result of natural selection from and enhanced and norm gene pool, and he is already at the level that the X-5's reached at age one is astounding."  
  
"Astounding, perhaps, but still outmoded. Good enough, however, to induce the Chinese to part with $2.7 million," Renfro said.  
  
"You can't sell him, he's research," Lydecker replied, barely controlling his anger, causing his voice to be a harsh growl.  
  
"Quite the contrary, Deck, I can. We have his genome pattern and a DNA sample. All we would have to do is clone him and find a surrogate to carry to term."  
  
Maeve gently closed the door on The Director and Col. Lydecker. "They won't sell you B, I won't let them."  
  
  
  



	9. Only Happy When It Rains

~Part Nine~  
Only Happy When It Rains  
  
Max was still thinking about her conversation with Logan last night as she pedaled to work. They were okay, and there were no more secrets between them, but Max was still under a cloud. There were just to many questions left unanswered. How did Logan's fingerprints end up on the gun that killed Karen? Who sent the autorads? Did Zack know he had a son?  
  
The questions had put Max under a dark cloud. She wasn't looking forward to a day of Normal's newfound cheeriness and pleasantry. Just as Max pulled her bike into Jam Pony she heard the distant rumble of thunder.  
  
Great. How I love delivering packages in the rain, she thought grimly as she dismounted. Max walked back to the lockers where she found Sketchy in the middle of a spitting contest with Druid, the short, bald rider.  
  
"Hey, Max!" Sketchy cried, forgetting to wipe the spittle from his chin. "Care to get in on the odds? We split the profits 50/50 if I win."  
  
"No thank you," she called to him. "Gross," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"Original Cindy agrees with you. She has been watching them all morning and is about to loose her breakfast. This has got to be the most boneheaded game they ever played." Cindy slammed her locker shut and sat down next to Max to tie a shoe. "At least Normal hasn't started in with his morning pep talk yet. You know that since we got him to show a little respect, he's gone over board with the employee-friendly routine? Cindy would be happy to have the old Normal back."  
  
Cindy bent her head down to tie the other shoe as Max stared across the room at Normal's newest addition to the Jam Pony set up. A Rider-of-the-Week section on the wall. Normal was going to far in his attempt to inspire respect. Max and the others just wanted him off their backs, not patting them there.  
  
Cindy stood up and looked at the area where Herbal's picture had been tacked up next to a blue ribbon and a gold star. "Sickening. Original Cindy would rather wear seafoam green than have her picture there."  
  
"We're not here to discuss the decorating, ladies," Normal said, walking over, package in hand. "We have work to do, bip bip bip." He thrust the package at Cindy. "Hot run, 263 Bleeker."  
  
Cindy looked at the package in her hands and then back at Max. "He's baaaaaaaack," she intoned. She walked over to Sketchy and Druid. "Hate to break up the party boys, but there's a package to deliver."  
  
"Normal gave it to you," Sketchy said, "Why can't you deliver it?"  
  
"Original Cindy is not in the mood, and besides, she's sick of watching you two hoarking it up."  
  
Sketchy wiped his mouth and grabbed the package. "Aiight, but you owe me." He grinned at her and jumped on his bike.  
  
"Cindy!" Normal called across the room. "Are you going to work, or do you not want to get paid? Next time I give you a package to deliver, I expect you to deliver it."  
  
"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Cindy muttered.  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Normal, where's the community spirit?" Max called out.  
  
"Down the drain," Normal muttered, then he lowered his voice, "along with my savings."  
  
Not hearing the last part, Cindy continued to gripe. "We're out there busting our butts and he's all uptight again because he didn't get his beauty sleep. Original Cindy feels unappreciated."  
  
"You feel unappreciated?" Normal snorted. "I'm here day in and day out, no matter what, just so you moronic imbeciles have jobs! I try to show you a little appreciation for hard work, but no, you don't want it. You are a bunch of thankless bums."  
  
"Speaking of bums," Cindy picked up, "We are out there busting our butts out there delivering packages everyday. If it weren't for us, you wouldn't have Jam Pony."  
  
As Cindy was speaking, Sketchy came back from his run, soaking wet. "I didn't get farther than Pike. It is pouring out there," he announced. A towel hit him in the head.  
  
"Dry off before you come in. I just had these floors waxed," Normal said.  
  
"That's it," Cindy cried, marching over to Sketchy and taking the towel from him. "I don't care how constipated you are. We are through letting you treat us like idiots. All we want is a little gratitude, not a shrine." Cindy stormed over to the Employee-of-the-Week wall and ripped down a ribbon. "Show us your appreciation in our paychecks. We want better conditions and better pay!"  
  
"Yeah!" cheered the other workers who had gathered around.  
  
"This isn't Burger King. You slackers can't have it your way," Normal said. "I don't see anyone out on a run now. There are packages to be delivered, bip bip bip!"  
  
"Zip it!" Cindy cried. "We are not about to deliver packages in a monsoon. Strike!"   
  
"STRIKE!" the other workers cried, just as a peal of thunder sounded and the lights went out. "STRIKE!"  
  



	10. Somewhere Out There

~Part Ten~  
Somewhere Out There  
  
Zack leaned back against the cool wall of his crash pad. Normally, he liked not needing a whole lot of sleep, but right now even a little was too much. He wished that he had Max's shark DNA so that he didn't have to sleep at all.  
  
It was humid and incredibly stuffy. Usually he could block out the rest of the world when he needed sleep, and still keep an ear open. But this time it wasn't so easy.  
  
He had a song stuck in his head.  
  
My lover's gone,  
His boots no longer by my door  
He left at dawn  
And as I slept I felt him go  
Returns no more  
  
I will not watch the ocean  
My lover's gone  
No earthly ships will ever   
Bring him home  
Bring him home again  
  
It was an old, pre-Pulse tune. Her favorite. In fact it was her voice he heard singing it. Zack tried to block it, but the flood of memories was just too strong. The walls tumbled down as he saw her smile, her shinning eyes, her limp body hanging between two Manticore agents.  
  
"Maeve," he whispered just as a tear fell down his cheek. The irony of the song would have been almost funny if it hadn't been for the guilt. She was dead because of him. She'd protected him when he should have been protecting her.  
  
Zack stretched his long legs out in front and bent his head down. The pull he felt in his muscles reminded him that he was getting too comfortable. He'd been here too long and he needed to get moving. Maybe a new city would shove the memories back where they belonged.  
  
He knew that he really needed to let it out, to allow himself to cry for her, but he couldn't. There was no place safe enough to get that comfortable. At least not one he'd go to willingly.   
  
He pulled on his shirt and, grabbing his jacket and his wallet, Zack jumped up and headed for the door. He'd had enough of Chicago for a while. He needed something new. Maybe it was time to see the ocean again.  
  
AN: The song is "My Lover's Gone" by Dido  
  



	11. Evidence

~Part Eleven~  
Evidence  
  
Logan was working on a hack, but he was getting stuck. The target was an operator of a pyramid scheme who was cheating people out of their hard earned savings. Logan was going to enjoy it when he finally pinned the guy, however, the problem was, Logan didn't have quite enough evidence just yet. Maybe he needed Max to do a little reconnaissance.  
  
He was leaning back in his chair, staring at the computer screen when there was a knock at the door. He got up and walked over. He peered through the peephole at a tired looking Matt Sung. Logan unlocked the door and opened it.  
  
"Matt, what's up?" Logan asked.  
  
Matt sighed. "I'm sorry, Logan, but they've got a warrant to search the place," he said as he stepped inside, followed by a few other cops. Matt pulled a paper out of his inside coat pocket and handed it to Logan. "Here, read it. I tried my best, but they got their way. And you'll probably be called down to the station for a statement and a powder burn test."  
  
"Fine," Logan replied, "I haven't got anything to hide."  
  
"I know you don't. And thanks for cooperating. No one seems to do that anymore, and it'll look good." Matt patted Logan on the back. "Sit down, have a cup of coffee. I'll try to get them out of here quickly."  
  
"No stealing the candlesticks," Logan joked as Matt went off to supervise the officers rooting through Logan's kitchen drawers.  
  
Logan sat down and tried to relax while the search was going on, but it was impossible. Finally he took to standing by the windows, watching the cops fling pillows across the living room. Searches used to be relatively neat affairs, but since the Pulse, they were more like tornadoes.   
  
Three officers went into Logan's office and started to disconnect his computer equipment. "Hey!" he shouted at them, "That's sensitive equipment!"  
  
"Hey, pal, we got the warrant, back off," one replied, and then went back to disconnecting the Internet hook up.  
  
Logan turned to Matt. "Matt, please, I need my computers."  
  
"Right. Eyes Only would be compromised," Matt said.   
  
"Well, more like I would."  
  
"What? You are . . .?" Matt asked.  
  
"Yes. I wasn't protecting anyone when I confessed it to Bronck. Max did the hack, pretending to be me," Logan told him.   
  
"Damn," Matt whispered. "Alright. Hey, guys! Leave the computers, we don't need them."  
  
The officers grumbled, but left the computer room. As Logan went to reconnect the wiring, he saw one pull Matt aside. There was a black box in his hands. The box Logan stored his gun in. The one that had been used in Karen's shooting.  
  
Matt stepped into the office. "Logan, I'm afraid we're going to have to take you downtown."  
  



	12. Amen

You asked for it, so here it is :)  
  
~Part Twelve~  
Amen  
  
Did you create us  
After we created you,  
Dear God?  
  
Zack sighed, his warm breath forming water droplets in the chill air. Mid-summer and it was still cold up here. Why had he even come here? There was no point in it. He'd left Chicago with every intention of going to California, yet he'd ended up here. No, he should just leave now.  
  
He stood there, debating the merits of turning on his heels and going to San Francisco, yet he didn't move a muscle to do so. No one would know if he left, no one would care if he turned back. And it wasn't as if he actually believed in this stuff. You don't think He believes in you, anyway.   
  
Who was He anyway? Zack and God had always had an uneasy relationship. He couldn't believe that God created people and gave them souls, when he knew he'd been created in a lab, created by men who didn't have souls. God was created by people who needed someone to lay the blame on, rather than their own miserable selves. The people who really believed didn't have sins, not real sins, like the ones he had, or the ones that the people at Manticore had committed. And there was no forgiveness for those kinds of sins. Still, he found himself pushing open the doors to Our Lady of Hope.   
  
Zack wandered down the center isle of the small chapel, looking at the stained glass and statues of saints that surrounded him. He remembered how they used to scare him when he was younger. He'd first gone to a church a few months after he'd escaped. Even though it was hell, life at Manticore was sheltered in some ways, and Zack had gone to see the Blue Lady with some questions. Alone in a crazy world at a young age, he'd clung to their naïve version of religion for comfort. But at the church where he found a statue of her, he'd seen a woman praying to someone she called St. Anthony. Interested, Zack had asked the woman about St. Anthony and that had started his education in religion. For a while he'd convinced himself that he believed in God, but the unanswered questions he still had about Manticore had weighed heavily on him, and knowing he'd never find the answers, Zack became disillusioned. Yet, every now and then, he found himself going back for reasons he couldn't explain.  
  
Zack knelt in a pew, remembering the last time he'd been to this little chapel. He'd been with Maeve, Maeve who believed in God, and Jesus, and the saints, and Mary. They'd come here and performed a little ritual that they'd made up. They hadn't meant to take it seriously, but they did, and they'd always considered themselves married after that. He didn't know why he came here now, except maybe it was something he needed to do. He crossed himself and began to speak.  
  
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned . . ."  
  
(Song lyrics by Sarah McLachlan - "Dear God")  
  
  



	13. Picket Line Blues

  
  
~Part Thirteen~  
Picket Line Blues  
  
Max and Original Cindy were sitting at the usual table, handmade signs resting by their feet, taking a load off at Crash after a hard day of picketing at Jam Pony. Sketchy, as usual, was working himself out of mildly inept and into dangerously stupid.  
  
"You better be glad you livin' with Richie Rich," Cindy was saying to Max, "Cause sista girl here will be on the streets."  
  
"I'm sure Logan would let you have the guest room if things got that bad," Max told her.  
  
"Jah never give a mon mo' than he can handle," Herbal interjected, "It is times like dees that the Mos' High be by your side."  
  
"Well, unless the Mos' High is gonna pay my rent, I might have to give in," Cindy said.  
  
"Be true to ya self, and no problems will come that you cannot handle, my sistah," Herbal countered.  
  
"I just realized I don't know how to be true to myself," Sketchy griped, putting another empty animal cracker box on his pile of discarded ones. "Now, Normal, he knows who he is and he stays with it. The man is -"  
  
"The man," Cindy interrupted, "is a rhythm free, tightass, constipated, cheap Republican white man."  
  
"This may come as a shock to you, but I am also a white man." Cindy rolled her eyes. "And right now all I have going for me is a never ending supply of little crackers shaped like zoo animals. Normal has his own business."  
  
"Not without us," Max said quietly.  
  
"Gimme those, you've had too many," Cindy said, snatching the new box away from Sketchy. "And don't be telling me you ain't got nothing. What about that girl of yours, Natalie?"  
  
"She left me," Sketchy said, tearing up, "she left me."  
  
"Oh brother," Cindy muttered. "Okay, time to go home white boy."  
  
"Home," Sketchy said wistfully, "I have no home since Natalie left . . ."  
  
"Alright," Max said, getting up, "Time for walkies. C'mon Sketch, I'll drop you by your bed on my way home." Sketchy stood up and almost fell on Max. "Can't I just go home with you?" he asked.  



	14. Entropic Forces

~Part Fourteen~   
Entropic Forces   
  
Max walked through the door of Logan's penthouse and stopped in the foyer. The place was trashed, things had been thrown about everywhere, but there was a method to it. The place had been searched. A million possibilities were running through her head, each one worse than the last. "Logan?" Max called, walking further into the apartment.   
  
"He's not here," Bling replied from the living room.   
  
"What happened?" Max asked, walking into the room. "New decorator?"   
  
"No," Bling replied, "the police. They searched the place, then Matt took Logan downtown."   
  
"Matt?"   
  
"Yeah. Apparently the cops are pushing ahead with the Logan as a main suspect investigation, and he was here for damage control."   
  
"I'd hate to see this place if he hadn't been here." Max said, picking up a sofa pillow. She hated going down to the station, especially now that they had her face on file. Sure, Zack had confessed to killing Vogelsang to save her, but there were some cops who still looked at her sideways. She put the pillow back on the sofa and sighed. "Well, I gotta blaze, but you must give me the name of your decorator," she called over her shoulder as she headed out the door.   
  
The ride to the station was relatively short. Max propped her bike up against a light pole and went in the building, ignoring the Sergeant at Arms at the front desk who wanted her to sign in. She scanned the room, looking for Logan, and she found him at Matt's desk. She strode over, her sensitive hearing picking up their conversation.   
  
"I can keep this in limbo for a while, but pretty soon I may be forced to book you unless we get substantial proof in your favor. An alibi would be nice," Matt was saying.   
  
"You know my alibi. I'd appreciate it if you kept this quiet," Logan said.   
  
"Kept what quiet?" Max asked, placing a hand on Logan's shoulder.   
  
"Max," Logan greeted her, "it's nothing." Ever so gently, she applied increasing pressure to his shoulder until he winced. "Just something about Eyes Only."   
  
"Oh. Captain EO send you on the trail of another story?"   
  
"Max, it's okay, Matt knows."   
  
"And his secret is safe with me," Matt assured her.   
  
"Oh, I trust you," Max told him, "but I don't know about cyber-boy here." So, she still hasn't quite forgiven me for keeping her in the dark about Karen, Logan thought, I knew I'd gotten off too easy. "Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but this place gives me the creeps. Can I use a Get-out-of-jail-free card for my friend here?" Max asked still addressing Matt.   
  
Matt pretended to size Logan up, and then turned to Max. "He's a bit of a flight risk, but I'll release him to your custody." Matt grinned.   
  
"Thanks. Okay, pal, let's go," Max said, pulling Logan up out of his chair. "I'll make sure he doesn't escape custody." She winked at Matt.   
  
"Thanks, Max. And Logan - good luck," Matt said, patting him on the back.   
  
Max pushed Logan towards the front of the station. They passed a man in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs. The man jumped up after they walked by. "Hey, I know you!"   
  
Logan and Max turned around and looked at him. Logan recognized him instantly.   
  
"You were that guy who was with that bitch who testified against me. She was at your penthouse. I hear she's dead. What happened, you get sick of her? Trade her in for this one," he gestured at Max. "Or did she threaten to spread your little secret? Whatever. 'Bout time one of you righteous rich boy do-gooders paid for your crimes."   
  
"Nut," Max whispered.   
  
Matt and two other officers grabbed the guy, forcing him to sit down again. Matt looked over at Logan and Max. "Sorry, he wasn't supposed to be here today."   
  
"It's okay," Logan assured Matt, before turning around and pulling Max out the door with him.   
  
Once they were outside, Max turned to Logan. "Who was that?"   
  
"That was Edgar Montoya."   
  
"Montoya, as in Karen's Edgar Montoya?"   
  
"Yeah. And I have a feeling that he may be a big part of the puzzle."   
  
"Mind cluing me in? I may be smarter than the average bear, but I'm not telepathic."   
  
"Later," Logan replied. Max gave him a look. "I promise."


	15. Flashback

~Part Fifteen~  
Flashback  
  
Gabriel Parker was drunk, or working on getting there. Anyway, it didn't matter what he was as long as he didn't feel it. How did things ever get so screwed up that he was sitting in a bar, drowning his sorrows out in vodka? Screwdrivers, Cape Coders, anything with a strong dose of vodka in it, and if that didn't work, he'd resort to taking straight shots.  
  
His boss, Edgar Montoya, had been doing very bad things and he'd finally gotten the courage to blow the whistle so to speak. But once he did, he'd have to disappear. Montoya was a powerful man, and, more importantly these days, rich. Gabe couldn't have joined the Witness Protection Program because Montoya had influence with all kinds of people inside the government. So, he was about to start a life of looking over his shoulder.   
  
However, his new life would be on a much smaller budget than his present one. That idea did not appeal to his wife, Karen. She was the type of person who wanted to be friends with powerful people like Montoya, because of what they could do for her. Gabriel and Karen were having a few problems and hadn't had been as intimate lately as they had been when they first go married. The night that he had told Karen he intended to gather information and evidence to take to Eyes Only, she flew into a fit of rage and, taking the car keys, had run out the door. A few weeks later, after they had tenuously made peace, Karen admitted she'd gotten drunk and had slept with another man. And she was pregnant. They were going to have a baby to take care of. Gabe was going to need some financial assistance.  
  
It came in the form of a woman. Her name was Marilyn. She was tall and thin, with a platinum pixie cut. She was tracking an AWOL soldier named Zack something or other. He could only remember the guy's first name. And Marilyn wanted him.  
  
She had never said exactly why. All the cash she'd dangled in front him had silenced his questions. He had been an idiot. Sure he needed the money; in fact she had seemed to know he needed the money. But he hadn't asked questions. His job left him with enough questions he couldn't answer and he didn't want to think about the ones Marilyn had left him with.  
  
She had approached him at a bar, the very night he'd found out about Karen's one night stand. She had pictures of Karen with the guy, pictures that clearly showed the license plates on Gabe's car //so that was how she found him//, pictures that also showed that Karen was drunk off her arse when she slept with the guy. It was a small relief to know that his wife's judgment had been impaired when she'd cheated on him.  
  
"I know this is hard to look at, Mr. Parker, but because of these pictures we were able to identify your wife and find you through Department of motor vehicles records," She Marilyn explained. She told him all about the evil things that Zack Whomever was capable of, and Gabe had believed her because he wanted to believe evil of the man that Karen had slept with. He didn't want to think that Karen was responsible; he wanted to believe that she was guiltless. So, Gabe had agreed to help Marilyn.  
  
"If you agree to help us, you could save your own country from a second terrorist attack, one the same scale as the Pulse. This soldier was involved in some top-secret Department of Defense projects, but he's gone AWOL, and has been linked to several terrorist groups. You could be saving the lives of thousands of people," Marilyn had assured him. "You are doing the right thing."  
  
That might still be true, but he'd lost the ones that meant the most to him. His wife was dead, his son was missing, and he had lost his identity. Marilyn had forced him to fake his own death and assume a new identity after their first attempt to capture the AWOL soldier had gone south. He'd also lost his faith in his country. He'd seen too many things that horrified him, and he'd discovered that the government employed people like Edgar Montoya because they could supply experimental drugs that were unavailable or illegal in America. Most of all, he knew now that there was no justice.  
  
  
A/N: You guys asked for more, so here it is. Sorry my updates are few and far between - I've been rather busy lately. Thanks! 


	16. Puzzle Pieces

~Part Sixteen~  
Puzzle Pieces  
  
Max curled up on Logan's couch while he sat a cross from her in an armchair. After she had picked him up from the police station, Logan had made dinner - Lasagna and garlic butter breadsticks (the kind that melt in your mouth) - and they had eaten in silence except for the occasional "Please pass the dressing" or "More wine?" It was a tacit agreement between them not to say anything about the situation until dinner was over in order to make the meal more enjoyable, yet neither of them could think of much to say that wasn't about the case.  
  
Finally, dinner was over and the dishes had been cleared away. Logan made coffee and they took their cups into the living room to talk.  
  
"So," Max said, clearing the silences between them. "Start with Montoya."  
  
"Well, Montoya was supposed to get 25 to life for murder one. We had Karen's testimony and the jury was sequestered. But even without buying the jury off, he only got 10 years. And with the way the correctional system works today, he could be out on parole next week if he finds the right prison official willing to take a bribe," Logan explained.   
  
"Blind justice," Max rolled her eyes, "For enough money, they'll close their eyes and look the other way."  
  
"I'm sure that's not what our founding fathers had in mind when they wrote the Constitution," Logan replied. "However, this time it's more like a red herring. We're looking in the wrong places."  
  
"You mean the cops are. We know Lydecker killed Karen. So what if Montoya wants to shoot his mouth off like every other idiot?"  
  
"He knows too much," Logan ran a hand through his hair. "If he put me and Karen together, it's not long before he puts Eyes Only and me together, or you and Manticore, or . . ."  
  
"Whoa, back the paranoia train up here," Max interrupted. "How would he know about Manticore?"  
  
"Karen had some papers that mentioned a government agency that was importing experimental medicines and serums through drug runners . . . medicines that are used in genetic research," he paused. "And how else do you think my gun wound up in Lydecker's hands?"  
  
Max flashed back to the night that Montoya had sent some thugs after Karen. Two of them had been in Logan's office. She'd thought they were there to destroy Logan's computers or steal whatever he had on Montoya while they finished off Karen. They would have had time to take the gun. And neither she nor Logan had thought to look . . .   
  
"I know you're wondering why we never knew the gun was missing," Logan said, reading her mind, "but with everything that happened afterwards, it never crossed my mind. And I certainly haven't had any need for it," he grinned wryly, remembering his flirtation with suicide grimly.  
  
"Lydecker knew you and I were, well," Max lowered her eyes, "when he went to the cabin. Karen told him. She was a loose end that unraveled into a big problem." 


	17. Dublin Calling

**~Part Seventeen~**

**Dublin Calling**

Later that night, while Max was in the shower, Logan wandered into his office and made sure all the connections were okay. He hadn't touched the computer since that afternoon when Matt had been there. Starting it up, he sat in his chair and logged on to the Informant Net. 

He was scrolling through an email when his incoming net call alert rang. Actually it sang. He usually had it programmed to the opening bars of "Misere", but Max sometimes snuck in and reprogrammed things on him. This time it was "Livin' On A Prayer" by Bon Jovi.  Logan smiled to himself at Max's creativity. 

The call originator was IrishLass862. Jondie.

Logan clicked on the 'accept call' button and was greeted by Jondie's smiling face. Once again he was struck by her similarities to Max. It wasn't so much that they looked alike; it was more that they had a similar way of looking. The same sarcastic yet sweet vulnerability.

"Isn't it like 3 AM where you are?" he greeted her.

She laughed. "Yeah, but you know I don't sleep. Me and Max have shark DNA."

"Ah, shark DNA. Extracted from Jaws, I'll bet."

"Ouch," Jondie quipped.

Logan flashed a smile at her. "What's up?"

"I got the autorads. Big brother Zackie has a son, huh?"

"Yeah. I don't think he knows it yet, though."

"I'd love to be there when you break the news," Jondie said. "But seriously, how did GI Joe end up with a kid?"

"I don't know," Logan replied. "I know who the mother is though. She is – was an old friend."

"Friend?" Jondie arched an eyebrow.

"She was between Max and Max," Logan explained, "but it wasn't that serious."

"Uh-huh." She smiled, "Speaking of Max, how is she?"

"Showering," Logan said, allowing his thoughts to drift.

Jondie snapped her fingers, "Earth to Logan, come in, Commander Logan."

Logan laughed. "How's Mike?" he asked.

"Sleeping," Jondie replied. 

"You wear him out?" Logan teased.

"You could say that," she giggled.

"Man, my brother and Max's sister . . . bad mental image."

"Oh yeah? What about my sister and my brother-in-law?"

"Brother-in-law?"

"That's right, you'll have to be nice to me now that we are related," Jondie said.

"Congratulations," Logan replied. "I'm sure Max will be ecstatic when she finds out."

"Promise me you won't tell her. I want to surprise her."

"She'll kill me for not telling her, but hey, why not," Logan grinned, "It'll be worth the look on her face." From the bathroom he could hear the sound of the water turning off. It would only be a matter of minutes before Max wandered in, looking for him.

"I'd better let you go," Jondie said, her sensitive hearing picking it all up, "sounds like you're gonna be busy soon." She winked and disconnected the call and Logan's screen went black. He leaned back in his chair. Max padded into the room in her robe, her hair still wet from the shower.

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one . . . an informant," Logan replied.

"Now, that's not the same thing. An informant can't be no one," Max chided.

"It was just an informant with some information on that pyramid scheme I'm working on," Logan lied.

Max looked at him skeptically, but accepted it, "Okay." She turned on her heel and started walking in the direction of their bedroom. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Don't be late."


	18. Punishment

**~Part Eighteen~Punishment**

"Yes, the merchandise is first class. One of a kind," Renfro assured the buyer who was on the other end of the phone. Of course the X-5Beta wasn't one of a kind, but they didn't need to know that. People were sheep – they believed what ever you told them, especially when they wanted to believe it.

She hung up the phone, disgusted with the idiocy of these people. They should know that she wouldn't sell a one of a kind chimera for any cost. But then, she wouldn't get the price she asked for. She smiled. Stupidity did have its merits. When it was in other people.

She leaned forward in her chair and pressed the intercom button with a slender, well-manicured finger.  "Delia, please page Col. Lydecker and tell him I want to see him ASAP. And find Maeve, too." She released the button and sank back into her chair. Ah, what a day this was becoming.

Maeve was the first to arrive. Renfro motioned for her to sit down, inwardly smiling over the girl's unease. She knew why the director had called her into her office. She was caught. And now it was time to pay the price.

"I know you became rather . . . attached to X-5Beta 415, but I think your talents would be better used elsewhere," Renfro smiled.

"Where Ma'am?" Maeve asked. Good, she was willing to take her punishment.  Renfro's smile grew as she continued. "I'm assigning you to the X-9 program."

"X-9?" She interrupted, "but, Ma'am, X-9 is still –"

"Still in pre-natal development, I know," Renfro regained control of the conversation. "I am hoping you will take a more active role in the growth of this project."

She watched the expressions on Maeve's face change as her words sunk in. She had carefully chosen her words to relay an implicit meaning, and it had worked. Maeve swallowed once, then twice and looked Renfro straight in the eyes. "Understood, Ma'am."

The intercom beeped and Delia's voice emanated from the box. "Col. Lydecker here to see you, Ma'am."

Maeve leaned forward in her chair, as if to get up, but Renfro stopped her with a quick hand motion. "Send him in," she replied. The door opened and admitted Lydecker who stood behind Maeve's chair.

"You wanted to see me," he said. It wasn't really a question. More of an annoyed remark.

"Yes, Deck, I did," the Director replied, her voice silky, "I was just informing Maeve of her transfer to the X-9 Series."

"Are you sure that is where she will be most valuable?" The air in the room almost visibly crackled.  Maeve's placement had been his decision until that very moment, and with that one question, Lydecker was not only questioning Renfro's decision, but he was questioning everything – Maeve's assignment, China, the whole X-5Beta situation, Renfro's control of Manticore. 

"Yes. I am." Renfro sat, marking an end to the line of conversation. Lydecker firmed his lips, but Maeve knew he was going to say more. However she wasn't going to be there to hear it. "Maeve, you're dismissed."

As soon as the door was closed, Lydecker put his hands on Renfro's desk and leaned forward. "Where do you get off transferring her? She's under my supervision, and you know damn well why."

"She's my soldier first, Deck. And you know damn well that I don't answer to you. You answer to me, Deck," she sneered, leaning away from him. "You fucked up your shot at director in '09."

"And you just couldn't wait to get you claws in the chair," Lydecker sneered back, walking away from her desk.

"I could have you fired for that," Renfro replied calmly, "but you are more valuable to me on the inside."

"What do you want?"

"Not what, who."

"Who then?"

"Eyes Only."

Lydecker swore. She knew, didn't she? She knew he had it figured out and why he wouldn't follow her orders. "He's just a troublemaker, you know that. I can handle him."

"You said you could handle '09, too, and look where it got you," Renfro said, driving the barb in further. "Eyes Only is becoming an increasingly annoying thorn in my side. Do whatever it takes to silence him."

Lydecker stood, staring at the wall above her head. He pressed his lips together. Annoyed, Renfro stood. "Don't fail me, Deck," she warned. When he still didn't reply, she raised her voice. "Dismissed!"


	19. Amity

**~ Part Nineteen ~ Amity**

Max eased out of bed, careful not to disturb Logan. He'd become a lighter sleeper than he once was, thanks to all their adventures, and the nights he'd spent worrying about her. Some nights, Max just lay next to him, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath, scarcely believing that he wasn't just some sort of apparition. Other nights, like tonight, she would get up, sometimes going out to the Space Needle, other times simply sitting by the window, but she would always be right by his side before he woke up.

Slipping on her red robe, Logan's old robe, she slipped out to the kitchen.  There was water in the teakettle and she knew Logan had gotten some imported pre-Pulse hot chocolate.  Post-Pulse hot chocolate tended to taste like powdered rubber. Max inhaled the sent of real chocolate that was wafting from the tin and smiled. She reached for a mug, and as she did, a shadow, barely perceptible, passed over her. She whirled, knocking the mug to the floor, but there was no one behind her. Warily, she stepped over the shattered mug and peered into the living room. A form swathed in shadows sat on the couch. Max flicked on the lights. "Zack."

Zack sighed and stood. "Max." 

There was a long silence between them as they appraised each other.  Finally, Max broke the quiet. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to come, Max. I needed my baby sister," he admitted.  Before she knew what was happening, he had swept her into a big bear hug, nearly lifting her off the floor. Max buried her face in his shoulder for a moment, just enjoying having her brother there. He put her down and she looked up at him, seeing the hurt in his eyes.

"What? What is it? Is it Jondie? Krit? Syl?" she demanded.

"No, it's not one of them," Zack said, sitting down again, "It's someone else."

"Someone else," she repeated. Then she saw the look on his face and she understood everything. "Oh, Zack, I –"

"I knew it wasn't a good idea, Maxie, but I did it anyway. She . . . she was . . ." he broke off, the memories too much to bear. 

Before long, Max had him sitting on the couch, sipping hot chocolate, telling her the whole heartbreaking story.  "I shouldn't have let her do it. She promised me that she'd be okay, but then I saw her – I saw her take that damn cyanide pill, just to spite them, and to protect me," his voice broke, "she died because of me. It was my fault, I got soft and I put an innocent in danger."

"Zack," she reached out and put a hand on his arm, "Loving someone doesn't make you weak. It makes you stronger. It takes a lot to care about something – someone – a lot more than not giving a damn. For ten years I was on the run, looking over my shoulder. With Logan, I'm grounded, but I'm free."

"I don't know, Maxie. Sometimes I wish I could see things the way you do, but I just can't see how having a weakness makes you stronger."

"Stop thinking tac ops! This is not a mission, Zack, its life, live it."  Max sat back, a little shocked at the tone of her voice, but she stared Zack straight in the eyes. "If you keep running, Manticore will always control your life."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Logan rolled over, and in his half-dream, half-waking state, reached for Max. His arm fell flat on the mattress, instead of softly landing on Max. He opened his eyes slowly, and his sight confirmed what his sense of touch had told him. Max wasn't there.

He knew that she often went out on midnight prowls, and he knew she'd be back by morning. He rolled over on his back and closed his eyes, picturing her. Then her heard her shout, "Stop thinking tac ops!" Zack. Would there ever be a time he could think of Max's brother without feeling like his insides were doing yoga? He grabbed his glasses off the night table and pushed them on as he walked out to the kitchen. Max and Zack looked up, and for a while there was a tense silence as Zack and Logan remembered all that had passed between them the last time.

"Hey," Logan said.

"Hey," Zack replied.  Max recognized the start of another Zack-Logan championship staring contest, so she stood and went to Logan. "He needs to know," she said quietly.

Zack refocused his gaze on Max, but Logan knew he was still paying just as much attention to him as he had before.

"Maxie?" Zack's tone was questioning.

"Zack, you have a son," Logan said. He grabbed a photo off of his desk and held it out to Zack. "His name is Brandon."

Zack hesitated, looking not at the picture Logan held out, but directly at Logan. In his eyes Max could see him trying to make up his mind whether to be angry at Logan or jealous of him.  Finally, he took the photo and looked at it. It was a long time before he looked up at either Max or Logan. "How did you find out?" he asked.

"I knew his mother." Zack looked at Logan. "Karen Parker."

"Karen? As in the woman who almost got us all killed? The woman who betrayed us to Lydecker?" Zack demanded.

"Yeah, that Karen," Max replied.

"Damnit!" Zack jumped up and went to the window. He stared out the window at some unknown point as he spoke, "I met Karen in a bar . . . we were drunk. It was a one-night-stand. I had no idea."

Max walked over and put a comforting hand on his arm. As she and Zack shared a brother-sister moment, Logan ambled into the kitchen to make coffee. This was going to be a long night.


	20. Trapped

**~Part Twenty~Trapped**

She fingered the letter in her pocket to reassure herself that it was still there. With her other hand, she pulled her coat closer around her body to ward off the chill that she couldn't quite be sure was really there or in her imagination. She reached out and pushed open the door to the mailroom.

Pete was behind the counter, whistling as he sorted the mail. He looked up when he saw Maeve. He smiled at her, but his eyes betrayed his feelings. Maeve reached out and took his hand. "What is it?" she asked. "Is it . . . ?"

"No," Pete sighed, "It's not Marcus.  I'm being transferred to interoffice mail. As it is now everything goes through Sanders." Maeve knew how devastating this was to Pete. He would no longer have contact with the outside world in a manner of speaking. And Sanders was Renfro's lapdog. It meant they didn't trust him, which was heartbreaking to a man who had made a career of 20 years based on trust.

"Here," Maeve said, pressing the Cordodiazapine bottle she'd brought with her into Pete's hand. "Be sparing, it'll probably be the last bottle I can get you."

"Bless you," Pete thanked her, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Take this, and mail it," Maeve said, passing him the letter. "If it gets where it is going, it may save us both."

Just then, Sanders entered, followed by a guard. Maeve couldn't tell if Pete was able to hide the letter and the Cordodiazapine. 

"You don't have the clearance to be here," he said to Maeve. He motioned to the guard, who took Maeve by an elbow. "I'll escort you to your area," Sanders smirked.  He led Maeve and the guard in a sick parade through Manticore to the X-9 wing.

A door in the wall opened onto a hallway of doors. Doors that lead to small rooms. Small rooms that housed women who were carrying the next generation of Manticore. 

Sanders stopped in front of one door, marked 352. Maeve knew that the number would be her new name, much like the barcodes on the kids. "Give me your passcard." Numbly, Maeve unclipped her passcard from her coat lapel and handed it to him. The guard unlocked the door and Sanders motioned for Maeve to enter. 

"Enjoy your stay," he sneered, before shutting the door behind him.

Maeve's hand lashed out and swept the tray of food that was waiting for her off of the small table. The plates and silverware made soothing crashes on the floor that echoed off the walls. Food was everywhere. The destruction made her feel better. But she still sank down in a corner, drawing her knees to her chest, allowing the heavy sobs to wrack her body.

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long, but I've got lots more on the way :)


	21. Special Delivery

**~Part Twenty-One~**

**Special Delivery**

Logan was pacing the floor, waiting for the last of the coffee to drip into the pot. This would be his sixth cup. He'd been up since two, when Zack arrived, and it was now seven AM. He'd seen the sun rise. Bling would be here soon. He needed the caffeine to keep his head on straight, unlike Max and Zack, who had each drunk about two, maybe three cups. He'd ingested enough to make him twitch. He forced himself to stop pacing, and leaned against the counter. His fingers began to drum. "Maybe I aughta switch to decaf," he muttered, running his hand through his hair to keep from drumming his fingers.

He looked across the island at Max and Zack, who were seated at the dinner table, catching up. They were amazing. They had been up all night thinking and planning and strategizing – basically being good little soldiers – and then, in an instant, they slipped into the roles of brother and sister, catching up on old times.  Max leaned towards Zack as they laughed over a picture of Jace's baby, her hair brushing his forearm. Logan felt a slight pang of jealousy. Even though Max and Zack had straightened out the whole brother/sister/crush/commanding officer thing, there was something that they shared, which Logan had no part of. A part of Max that would always belong to Zack.

The coffee maker beeped impatiently, signaling him that it was ready. He yanked the pot out and poured some into his mug. Shoving the carafe back under the spout, the picked up his mug and walked to the table. Max looked up at him, as did Zack, and she smiled. "You look like hell," she remarked.

"Guess it's not in my genetic makeup to look like a supermodel on only three hours of sleep." Logan grinned. "I'm gonna go splash some water on my face before Bling arrives."

As if on cue the intercom buzzed. "Logan?" Bling's voice staticed over the wires, "I'm coming up."

Logan pushed the 'talk' button. "Okay. Let yourself in. Oh, and, uh . . . we've got company," he said, looking over at Zack.

"Good thing I got some bagels," Bling replied. Logan punched the disconnect and went to the bathroom to wash up before Bling got upstairs. He threw some cold water on his face, brushed his teeth, and decided to skip the razor. 'I shaved yesterday . . .'  He heard a door open, and he ambled out to the main hall, where Bling had just arrived.

"You look like hell," Bling commented.

"So I've been told."

"This was outside the door," Bling said, holding out a manila envelope. "Special delivery."

Logan took the envelope and looked at it. No postmarks, no stamps. Just his name and address. He tore it open, and a letter wrapped around a smaller envelope fell out. Logan unfolded the letter and read:

Mr. Cale,

I know you have no idea who I am, and no reason to trust me. But I'm writing on behalf of a friend. I know she's been in contact with you about a kid – B, she calls him – the enclosed is a letter asking you to help him. However, she's in trouble herself, but she won't ask for help. I'm an old man who is about to become obsolete, but please, send help for her; she's in far more deeper than she knows.

Pete Merrigan

Logan looked up and handed the letter to Bling. Max and Zack crowded around, trying to see both letters. Logan opened the second one. It was a short note, no names, just a message:

I'm writing to you again about B. They're going to sell him to China. I can't help him any more, so I'm asking you to. Please.

Underneath was a Xerox of floor plans and security systems. There was a low whistle behind Logan. He turned, to see Zack looking over his shoulder. "Whoever got those took a huge risk," he said, the respect showing in his voice, then his tone hardened, "Either that or we're walking into a huge trap."


	22. It Was The Worst Of Times

**~Part Twenty-Two~**

**It Was The Worst Of Times**

Max was analyzing the layout of the facility when her beeper interrupted the morning quiet. She checked the number. Original Cindy.  "Oh no," she said aloud.

"What?" Zack and Logan asked at the same time, and then looked at each other briefly before turning back to Max.

"It's Cindy," Max told them. "I'd promised to picket with her and the others this morning. She's probably just wondering where I am."

"The phone's in my office," Logan replied.

"Make it quick," Zack grumbled, "we have more important things to do." 

Max sailed past him into Logan's office and picked up the phone to call Cindy. The phone at Jam Pony was answered almost immediately and Max could picture Cindy waiting on the other end for the phone to ring, and then snatching it away from Normal, probably sticking her tongue out at him while she was at it.

"Boo, just cause you got yourself a rich boy to be your sugar daddy don't mean you can just skip out on the rest of us," Cindy started in.

"Cindy, I'm not," Max paused. "It's a family thing."

"Ohh." 

"I know I promised, but this is a big deal. Zack's here and…"

"Zack? Mr. Perpetual Bad Attitude?" Cindy asked. "Say no more."

"Thanks," Max said. "I knew you'd understand. And I'll be there with you all in spirit chanting 'Hell no, Normal must go' or whatever clever phrase you've got there."

"It's 'Two-four-six-eight, It's Normal we hate'," Cindy told her.

"Yes, well, I hate you, too," Max heard Normal grumble in the background. "You're impeding the flow of capitalism."

"Normal, you been impeding the flow since you were born," Cindy shot back.

Max laughed.  "Tell the others I'll be there soon."

"No problem, Sugah, you just get whatever 'family thing' you've got goin' on all worked out. Original Cindy can handle chanting for two."

"Yet you can't seem to deliver packages," Normal interjected. 

Cindy turned her back on him. "You take care of your pain in the ass, we'll handle ours," she told Max, before hanging up the phone and, blowing Normal a kiss, and going out to join the others on the picket line.


	23. All By Myself

**A/N: **Remember me? I've been away for a long time, I know, but I promise I am going to finish this fic! The reason I've been MIA from DA Fan Fic is because I've mostly switched over to Alias, but I am still writing DA fics, just very slowly. My apologies for taking so long, hope you haven't forgotten this story. 

**~Part Twenty-Three~**

**All By Myself**

Maeve rested her head on her knees.  She was definitely screwed now. Nobody knew she was here, nobody. And the one person who might have come to rescue her thought she was dead.  

She may as well be dead.  It would be better than where she ended up. She knew what happened to the birth mothers. If they were lucky, they were sent to psych wards where all their ranting about doctors taking their babies and performing experiments on them would be ignored as paranoid delusions. The others, well . . . Maeve shivered. No one would ask or care about a dead body in an alley. With no identification and no family, she'd be considered homeless – a junkie who OD'ed. 

Most of the lower level staff at Manticore had no family. It was a pre-requisite almost. There were some exceptions, like Pete, but most didn't have anyone who would miss them. Just like Maeve.

She was screwed unless Pete got that letter out. And even if he did, she'd have to wait for that Logan guy to do something. Zack had said he'd help, but so far she hadn't gotten any help from him. She'd have more luck contacting Eyes Only. He'd at least be interested enough in what she could tell him about Manticore to help her.

"Fuck you," she said to no one and everyone at the same time. "Fuck you all." 

"That's a rather nasty expression," Sanders said, entering the room. "I hope that wasn't directed at me." He looked around the room, taking in the scattered tray of food that Maeve had knocked over earlier. Stepping over it, he sat down on the bed and looked at Maeve, who was stubbornly staring at the tiny, barred window above his head.

"It's like a cage, isn't it? And you are every bit the caged lioness," Sanders said. Maeve continued staring.  "Oh, come now, it won't be that bad. There was a time when bearing a genetically enhanced child would have made you happy."

"You know what would make me happy?" Maeve said, not moving her eyes from the window. "Taking your heart out with a spoon."

"What happened to you? You used to be one of us," Sanders said.

Again, Maeve stared at the window.

"Oh, that's right, you met him," Sanders sneered. "You slept with the enemy.  And he liked you so much that he abandoned you and then slept with another woman. Great guy. Bet his kid turns out just like him."

It wasn't so much what he had said about her, or even Zack, but the things he said about B got to her. Maeve leapt off the floor and launched herself at Sanders, flipping the both of them over the bed. She clawed at his throat and they wrestled to gain control.  Sanders let go of her wrist for a fraction of a second and she raked her nails down his cheek.

"Bitch!" he shouted, putting at hand to his face, "That stings." 

Before Maeve could react, his hand reached into this pocket and pulled out a syringe, which he jabbed into her thigh. Maeve's vision fuzzed and her muscles refused to obey her commands. "Bastard," she mumbled as he got to his feet.

Ignoring her, Sanders went to the door and called in the orderlies that were waiting outside with a gurney. They wheeled it over to Maeve and lifted her on to it.

"I really had hoped I wouldn't have to sedate you," Sanders said, just before Maeve blacked out.


	24. Musings of a Military Man

**~Part Twenty-Four~ Musings Of A Military Man**

~*~*~*~

"What do you want?"

"Not what, who."

"Who then?"

"Eyes Only."

~*~*~*~

Lydecker leaned back in his chair, taking off his glasses and putting them down on top of the papers he had been inspecting. The margins of his copies of Renfro's plans to sell the X-5Beta to China were covered in notes and strategy. Lydecker blew out a breath. Damn her. Damn her to hell. She didn't care about anything but power. Power and prestige. And she was going to drive Manticore into the ground with all of her little power plays. Like ordering him to kill Eyes Only.

She knew that he had a pretty good suspicion as to who Eyes really was. And she knew that Captain EO had ties to at least one of his kids. It was all there in the file they had on him. Hell, she knew that Eyes Only was tight with Max, just like he did. For all her shortsightedness, the woman wasn't stupid. She was just clever enough to be a pain in the ass. The only thing she didn't know was that Eyes Only was most likely Logan Cale, that rich journalist boyfriend of Max's.

It had taken Lydecker a while to figure it out. When he'd seen Cale give himself up for the women at the genetics conference, he'd just thought the guy was either terminally stupid or extremely brave. Most likely terminally stupid, but he'd had to admire the guy's guts, going in there in a wheel chair and facing certain death for a bunch of people he'd never met before.

But then he'd been saved. By a girl, Rachel Glasser, who had turned out to be Max. After that, Lydecker had watched carefully. There was always evidence of Max whenever Eyes Only caused trouble, and evidence of EO when Max did. The final clue had been the meeting EO had arranged when Ben had been rampaging in Seattle. That slight little hesitation when he'd mentioned Max. Most people wouldn't have caught it, but Lydecker had. Cale was involved with the girl. Confirmation had come that night at the cabin not too long ago.

All Renfro knew was that Eyes Only had ties to the X-5's. She wanted him taken out because he was trouble. Asking him to do it was a test. Would he suck it up and flatline EO or would he hold out his loyalty to his kids?  Screw her, his loyalty rested with Manticore. And for now, keeping Cale alive was good for Manticore.

Sure, the guy caused problems, but that was nothing compared to what could happen if he was taken out. Cale was a rich guy; there'd be an investigation. That wasn't anything they couldn't handle. But if Eyes Only disappeared people would wonder if maybe some of those things he'd been saying were true. All it took was one conspiracy nut and the whole thing could be blown open. And that's what they did not need.

Renfro didn't think of these things. All she cared about was money and power. As long as she looked good, the place could go to crap. Lydecker knew she hadn't much more knowledge of what they were really doing than a first-year medical student knew about military operations. Her idea of military was selling anything and everything to the highest bidder. She'd sell her stapler as a weapons system if she could. Lydecker sighed as he looked at the copies of her China plans.

They'd had several disagreements over this. Renfro claimed she was trying to save Manticore because he was always bleeding it dry to fund research programs. Somehow he didn't agree that selling off every piece that wasn't nailed down was the way to save Manticore. Hell, the whole idea of the project was to create super-soldiers for the defense of America. Selling them, or even their genetic codes, to foreign interests where they would be used against America was treason in Deck's book. 

Yes, he was going to stop her. He just needed time to formulate a plan. He pulled out a manila folder holding all the intel on Eyes Only. There wasn't much, just some reports that all concluded EO was in contact with one of the X-5's that had escaped in '09. Lydecker smiled to himself. By the time he was done, there would be much, much more.


	25. An American Family

**~Part Twenty-Five~**

**An American Family**

Zack ran a hand through his hair, for about the fifth time that morning.  His ignored cup of coffee sat next to his elbow, already cold. He glanced up from the papers he'd been studying and caught sight of his sister and Cale lingering by the windows. The military half of Zack's mind read all the tactical exposure risks . . . Way too easy for a sniper . . . Zack shook his head. He'd been immersed in plans and strategies all night. 

Make that his whole life. It was what he'd been trained to do – what he'd been made to do – and Zack knew it was what he had to do to stay on the outside and stay alive. Somebody had to make sure that he and his siblings had lives of their own. The escape had been his idea, so it was his life that got sacrificed for the job. Zack wondered if he'd become as obsessed as Lydecker about the escape. But if he ever lost sight of the goal... 

Like you did with Maeve, his mind taunted him. Zack mentally chastised himself for that. He'd damn near sacrificed them all for that one. He'd lost his head and only managed to get it back in the game in time to save his ass. How could Max not see that she'd lost her head with Cale? 

But it was no use going there. Zack knew his sisters were as stubborn as he was. Jondie, Tinga, Max . . . the three of them were ready to chuck everything out the window for a norm. Secretly, Zack admired their ability to let go completely and allow someone else into their trust.  Perhaps that was part of the reason he'd been so bitter around Cale – even why he'd lied to Max about Logan's 'death' in that SAC base explosion – he wanted someone else to feel the way he did. He didn't want to be the only one who wasn't allowed to have feelings. If you had feelings you had a weakness and Zack was determined that his only weakness would be the safety of his siblings.

And his son.

Zack's heart clinched at that thought. There was somebody out there that was part of him. A living, breathing, tiny little Zack. An innocent little Zack. But only if they could get to him in time. Zack's fist tightened around the paper that was in his hand, crumpling it into a ball. He'd be damned if his son had to live the kind of life he'd had.

Zack grabbed his backpack and pulled his cell phone out. Punching in a number he turned his back to Max and Logan and waited patiently while the number rang three times. He left his message and hung up. When he turned around, Max was standing right behind him and Cale had disappeared into the kitchen where Bling had been making breakfast.

"Who were you calling?" she asked, the hurt look in her eyes that came every time they covered this little sore spot. She had a pretty good idea just who he'd called, but she wanted to hear his answer.

"Reinforcements," he answered brusquely.

"Maybe I aughta call Jondie," she said in an even tone.

"No."

"Why not? She's – "

"She's managed to slip off of Deck's radar and I want to keep it that way. It was only two years ago that we slipped her and Cale's brother out of the country."  Max was silent, so Zack continued. "I don't want to pull her back here and risk exposure. We're going all the way in, Maxie, if somebody saw her. . ."

The phone rang, and Zack snatched it off the table before Max could see the caller ID number on the display. "Hello," he barked. There was a long pause and then he spoke again: "Good, and bring Syl with you."

"Who was that?" Max demanded as soon as he hung up.

"Krit. He and Syl will be here in two hours."

Max didn't even bother to mention that it seemed Krit knew where Syl was, yet Zack wanted to keep her completely in the dark. She just left the room.


	26. Complications

**~Part Twenty-Six~**

**Complications**

Max was pouting by the windows and Zack was stubbornly ignoring her while looking over the plans once again when the phone rang. Everyone tensed and four pairs of eyes turned to the phone that sat on Logan's desk, ringing. Finally Bling answered it and then handed it to Logan with out a word. Satisfied that it wasn't anything important, Zack went back to his papers, but Max watched with concern. 

"I'll be right there," was all Logan said before hanging it up and looking from Bling to Max. 

"Who was that?" Max asked.

"An informant," Logan said curtly. Max simply blinked. "Sorry, but I've got to go, it's really important," he said, grabbing his jacket and car keys as he made for the door. Max watched his back as he left the penthouse, slamming the door behind him. 

She had a feeling that something was wrong, very, very wrong. She hopped off her perch on the windowsill.  "I'm following him," she said, reaching for her jacket, which was draped over the back of the couch. 

Bling stopped her. "He has to go alone. It'll be fine." Max stared at him. 

"If you two are done worrying about Cale, I've got something important to show you," Zack said, holding up some papers.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

The drive over was long, and it gave Logan time to wonder if this was a good idea. He probably shouldn't go, but something that was said on the phone had captured his attention. He couldn't ignore it, and it was the only reason he was going. Before he realized it, he'd reached his destination. Pulling back on the handbrake, Logan parked the Aztec and climbed out. He'd gotten so used to the modifications made on the Aztec after his shooting that he'd never changed them back.

Langford prison was a dark, drab gray building. It had been rebuilt in the late nineties, and the state had wanted it to look foreboding and imposing. They had succeeded, Logan thought as he stared up at it, past the misty lights of the perimeter fence to the armed guards in the watchtower. He shivered slightly, remembering Max's short stay there and the anxiety he'd felt sending Cindy in after her. 

"State your name and business," a guard's gruff voice snapped, pulling Logan out of his reverie.

"Logan Cale, I'm here to visit someone." The guard nodded and directed Logan to the visitor's desk, where he had to sign in and be patted down before they gave him a pass and lead him to the visiting room, a large, poorly lit room with a row of partitioned booths where prisoners were talking through phones to their lawyers or loved ones.

Logan settled himself into the hard plastic chair that he was lead to. It was next to impossible to get comfortable in one of those chairs. They had the same kind in hospitals.  On the other side, the door opened and a man in handcuffs was lead to the booth and he sat down, facing Logan. He picked up the handset and motioned for Logan to do the same.

"You wanted to see me?" Logan said into his end.

"Yeah, I did. Get me out of here, or I'll expose you as Eyes Only," Edgar Montoya said.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

"Krit and Syl will be here," Zack said, jabbing a finger at the map of the compound, "and you and I will be here. Cale and Bling will be in the van parked here," another jab, "providing visual and radio surveillance."

Max studied the plans. "Are you sure we should go in teams of two? If we were by ourselves…"

"They'd have a bigger chance of bagging one of us," Zack cut her off.

Max knew he had a point. One-on-one, an X-5 was hard to handle unless you also happened to be X-5. But this was Manticore, and they had all kinds of X-series willing to fight dirty.  And they would – and maybe could – try to grab both if they went in as a two-man team. Max didn't want to hand them a two-for-one deal.

There was a knock at the door. Zack glanced at his watch, which confirmed his suspicions. Too early to be Krit and Syl. He motioned to Bling, who drew his gun, as both X-ers crouched into fighting stances. Slowly, Bling eased the door open.

**~*~*~*~*~*~**

"This visit is over," Logan said, ready to hang up the handset. 

"Don't hang up," Montoya insisted, "I know who you are."

"I'm a rich man, it's no secret," Logan replied, "but that's all."

"Okay, then what a bout your girlfriend, huh? The one who was created in a lab?" Montoya's mouth twisted into a smirk. "Bet _Streets_ would love that story." Montoya was referring to _The Streets Of Seattle_, a local paper known for its *distinctive* take on stories.

Logan bristled, but he didn't let it show. "Maybe you'd better try the New World Weekly. I hear they pay for stories, even if they're false." He stood, and replaced the handset in its cradle. Montoya rose as well, but a guard placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into his chair. "Your lawyer's here," the guard announced. Montoya looked surprised.

In the doorway, a man in a dark suit pushed past Logan. Their shoulders bumped off each other.  The lawyer paused for a second, and mumbled an apology while picking up his briefcase. Logan watched him as he sauntered over to the chair Logan had just vacated. He looked over his shoulder as he sat down and Logan caught a glimpse of his face. He didn't remember him from Montoya's trial. Shrugging to himself, Logan left the oddly empty visiting room without looking back.


End file.
